Aetheron only focused his gaze on her, no hint of fear in his eyes, only mockery.
"You must be the ancient enemies of life and Origin that the Grand Creator warned us about." He spat at her, his golden blood hovering before her face, before the shield of Origin Essence covering her body burned it to ash. "Seeing you here and now, and how unimpressive you are in real life, only able to slither in the shadows, I now see what he did not tell us... You all are pathetic wretches."
Aetheron turned his face away from her, even though the blade of End was now a few feet away from his face, and he screamed at the Primordials that were suppressed on the ground. Most of them had broken free to the extent that they could now see what was happening, and the anger and rage on their faces were palpable.
He looked at these faces filled with the same determination and anger as he was, and he laughed, "I know that there are those among you who are not of us, and yet you still pretend that you are. Know that you are despised and are not worthy to be called Primordials! Get the fuck out of our ranks and stab us in the front, it is the least you can do to regain any honor you have, if there is any shred left inside you, all that is."
Aetheron grimaced in pain as the blade of End finally arrived, and it effortlessly pierced through the Origin barrier around him and sank into his left eye. Myrra continued walking and pushing the blade until it burst out of the back of his skull.
"Get the fuck out of our ranks!" Aetheron kept screaming, even though his head was slowly rotting; he did not release his hold over infinity, nor did he try to run from his death. "Do you have no pride, no honor, no fucking dignity!"
"Why would we need all of those baseless mortal traits that you pitifully assume?" Myrra sneered, a faint red light glowing in her eyes. "Do you know how many Existences I have seen turn to dust? Can you comprehend the immensity of my Existence? Who are you to order the likes of us to obey your words?"
"Because you are in our world, you pitiful whore," Aetheron snapped, "You can take over our bodies forcefully and pretend to be us, and so the least you can do is play your part right. Do you not see the truth, your very bodies hate you... They hate the dishonor of your presence. They hate the fact that you are strong, but your heart is weak. Can you fight like us? Can you fucking die like us? At your passing, who would remember your name?!"
Myrra bared her teeth, "You know nothing, child, and when your Existence comes to an inevitable end, not even the barest hint of your memory or anything that has taken place here would remain."
"And still..." Aetheron smiled in victory, nearly half of his body had already collapsed, "... you hide like rats before our light. Even if I die today, and you live forever, you shall never forget us."
Myrra sneered and pulled back her blade, ready to cut off Aethron’s head, since his Origin seemed to be particularly resistant against the force of End.
This was most likely because of his connection with the Origin Realm below. Aetheron could pull on almost an ungodly amount of essence, and this was one reason he could hold back the entire horde of the Ancient Primordials by himself.
It was not that he had suddenly grown stronger beyond reason because of his determination; it was because he had an entire Origin Realm feeding him strength.

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